"Talia left a note, blaming me for her death," he said, opening his eyes. "I burned it. After Talia was buried, I didn't want anything to do with the baby. He wasn't mine. I didn't love him. So I gave him to Malka, and I did my best to forget about him, to forget about Judah. I immersed myself in my work for the Irgun. But I didn't forget Judah, so I started visiting his grave and leaving flowers there."

"Why only on his grave?" I asked. "Why not on Talia's?"

"Because she wouldn't want me to. She died hating me. And—" his voice turned ugly "—it was all because of that traitorous bitch."

"Who?" I asked, the answer popping into my mind almost instantly. "Esther?"

"Yes. The traitor. Four good men died and Talia lost her mind fighting to free her from the British, and what did she do? Become the mistress of a British officer. And not just any officer, but of—"

"John Clapper," I finished his sentence for him.

Michael looked at me in surprise. "You know?"

"It came up during my investigation," I said, goose bumps sprouting on my arms. The apartment had felt cold earlier, but now it was freezing. It would not have surprised me to see snow flurries flutter by my face—like on so many wretched days in Poland. I had guessed much of what Michael had told me, but him knowing about Esther and Clapper was unexpected. I could now see how this tragedy had come to pass. It was even worse than I'd thought. "How did you find out about it?" I asked.

"I was watching Clapper. I'd been given the task of assassinating him, but could never figure out a good way to do it. Eventually, my superiors called the operation off. But I kept surveilling the son of a bitch, trying to find an opening. That's when I saw Esther and him together."

"And that gave you the justification to kill her?"

"You're damn right it did." He was sitting straight now. He thought he'd found a way to convince me that what he'd done was right. "She betrayed us. She—"

I cut him off. "She was spying on Clapper for the Irgun."

His lips fell open. He shook his head. "No. There's no—"

"Mira was her handler. She told me about it herself."

His eyes bored into mine. They were begging me to admit that I was lying.

"Esther was no traitor," I told him. "She was a hero."

He sat motionless for five seconds. He didn't move a muscle, didn't even blink. Then his face came apart. "Oh, God," he said, slapping his hands over his face. He stayed that way for a while. When he finally lowered his hands, his eyes looked haunted and his face was gray.

"I didn't know, Adam. I swear I didn't know."